Random Musings From My Bell Jar

On cable there’s a view of the pandemic lowering barriers between people, of experiencing us all as co-inhabitants of Earth, as individuals making sacrifices to help others.  Then there’s the announcement that the U.S. will try and interfere with Iran’s efforts to get help with their pandemic.  I guess it’s our puzzling mix of values,  and questionable ability to compartmentalize.

Now, hunkered down in my bell jar, images, metaphors  and clumps of emotions are set loose.  I remember for some reason The Emperor’s New Clothes and the Boy Who Cried Wolf, and vulnerability posed by my own emotions. I distrust my emotions at this time.

They carry too much weight on my judgment.  I can’t stand to watch the frequently repeated footage about the abused pets, and I notice with dismay the repeated footage that says everyone has the right to caring and respect just because they’re…human?  And then footage about China’s “wet markets” with live meat animals.

Our appreciation for postal workers, firemen, health care providers and those willing to help during this pandemic is widespread, yet from a different perspective we dehumanize those in Iran suffering also in the pandemic.  And the American woman who attacked an Asian woman with an umbrella…

Perspective depends upon where one is standing.  Warning: Do not read both pro Left and pro Right blogs at the same time!  It’s too hard on the emotions, and too crazifying.

P.S. I HAVE AN IDEA:

Why don’t folks fact-check BEFORE they make statements, not after?

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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2 Responses to Random Musings From My Bell Jar

  1. ShiraDest says:

    Exactly. Thank you for bearing witness.

    Like

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